


at once

by Ashling



Category: Hustlers (2019)
Genre: F/F, Family Feels, Post-Canon, School Gun Violence Scare Briefly Mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 11:27:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20741453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashling/pseuds/Ashling
Summary: She does it all on instinct.





	at once

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GlassesOfJustice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassesOfJustice/gifts).

It's not a good life just yet. Destiny's still dead tired, still taking on more shifts than she wants to, but Lily likes her new school and Destiny, sensing certain weaknesses in the school's leadership, had ruthlessly employed every -ism under the sun in an extensive essay about all the hard knocks her daughter had been subjected to (except Lily's biological father of course—even Ramona wouldn't go that far—not that it matters) and had in return for the grubby self-exploitation had received a handsome scholarship from an anonymous trustee member. Destiny's coming home before midnight most nights, and that's good. It means she's awake enough mornings to make Lily drink at least a glass of milk with her Pop Tart, awake enough to put away the dishes from the dishwasher (dishes washed, of course, by hand; old habits die hard), and awake enough to flop down on the sofa and turn on the morning news.

It's not a good life yet, but there are good mornings, like this one, Destiny's day off and Lily's parent-teacher conference magically overlapping, which is a once-in-a-lifetime for two reasons: first, Destiny's schedule never works with Lily's anything, and second, she's never had a one-on-one parent-teacher conference before. She wears a long-sleeve teal sweater and beams at all the praise, and then her phone goes _ding_.

Not the phone in her purse. The one in her pocket.

Destiny whips it out, scans the news alert, and her stomach drops. She knocks her chair over on the way to the door, and by the time she makes it to the car, she's panting. She told Lily to stay with her teachers, right? She must have. It doesn't matter now. If any of them are worth their fucking salt, they'll manage to keep Lily entertained for—for however long this is going to take. 

When she pulls up to the school, the parking lot is flooded and backed up with cars, so she calmly backs up a bit, hits the gas, and goes hard over the curb and onto what turns out to be the soccer field. Not a fucking smart idea, with all those police cars around, but when Destiny parks as close to the school building as she dares and clambers out, hands out, there's no policemen there. They must all be inside. She screams for Juliet, but she can't see for shit, so she clambers onto her car, slipping and nearly bashing her hand on the windshield, but making it all the same, crouching there and scanning the mass of students out front for a glimpse of Juliet's curly hair. Nobody looks at her. They're mostly going mad the same.

Then a _ding_.

_d get off the car im fine. _ _u sound like a wet cat lmao_

Destiny's hands are shaking. _Where are you?_

At least Juliet's answer is immediate. _northwest corner of the parking lot. yankees cap on. cutest girl here. hurry up im hungry_

When Destiny finally finds her, she's appalled to see that Juliet has grown three inches since she last saw her, and so relieved she could cry. Her throat is raw, her legs burn, she knows she looks like a madwoman. Juliet, for her part, looks comfortable and mildly bored in an oversized hoodie. 

"Can we get McDonald's on the way home?" is the first thing she says. "For the trauma."

_You used to be so sweet, _Destiny wants to say, and that's ridiculous. Juliet is still sweet. There's still the shadow of fear in her eyes, for all that she's acting nonchalant. But the act itself, that's something Destiny remembers well, an inheritance of sorts.

"Yeah, okay," Destiny says. She puts her arm around Juliet's shoulders, and Juliet pointedly allows it. "Let's go."

"Excuse me," says a sharp voice, and suddenly there's a big hand on Destiny's shoulder and she has to shove down the instinct to elbow whoever-it-is in the face.

She turns. "Yes?"

"You're not Juliet's mother." The man, who she immediately takes in as a Prosperous Sweater Vest, stares her down. Or tries to.

"And who are you?" she says.

"Mr. Hudson," says Juliet, beside her.

"And who are you?" Sweater Vest says.

"Dorothy," she says, while Juliet says "Destiny" at the exact same time. 

His eyes narrow dramatically, like he's trying to be a cop in a B movie. "So which is it?"

"My legal name is Dorothy, but my nickname is Destiny. Everyone calls me Destiny." She says this as placatingly as she can, while looking around a little as much as she can without looking shifty. There's another man in a full-on suit observing them from nearby. Grey hair. Principal, maybe. Thus this whole spectacle. Family friend won't fly. "I'm the nanny."

"No, you're not."

"Excuse me?" Destiny says, summoning every last drop of Blonde With Cropped Hair At Costco from within her. It doesn't work.

"Fernanda is Juliet's nanny. Who the hell are you?"

"It's okay," Juliet says. 

"You can't just go off with anyone," says Sweater Vest. "I have a legal responsibility."

"No, I mean, it's okay." Juliet elbows Destiny. "You can tell him. Hudson is down with the gays."

Destiny knows she's supposed to say something, but she doesn't know what that is.

"This is my other mom," Juliet says to Sweater Vest. "They're just like super lowkey about it right now, and they can't get married cause, like, landlords. You know?"

It works like magic. Suddenly Sweater Vest is leaning in, like they're conspiring together.

"Of course," he says. "And I won't tell the other teachers. Your business is your business."

He's definitely telling all the other teachers. But Destiny can tell that she (or rather, Juliet) has won. She should leave with a little grace.

"You're an asshole," she says. 

"Mom hasn't had coffee yet," says Juliet. 

"Don't forget, there's still gonna be an exam on Thursday," Sweater Vest says, but he says it to Juliet, not Destiny, and she thinks she can see a tiny bit of embarrassment on his face. Good. How dare he? Juliet is _hers_.

It's not until they're in the car that Destiny remembers: that's not true. 

"Did you text your mom and tell her you're okay?" she says. It's stupidly hesitant. But if Juliet hears that, she doesn't let on.

"Yeah. I told her I was getting a ride home with one of my friends. She'll says she'll be home in forty-five minutes."

"That's a long commute." Destiny tries not to sound too interested.

Juliet shrugs. "She hates the drive, but she says the money is worth it. Hey, how did you know to come get me?"

"I almost sent Lily to the same school as you, and I set up my phone with news alerts about it."

"So then what happened?"

"She got a better scholarship at Pencey."

"But like, how did you know I was there?"

"Oh, I just saw you in one of the yearbooks when I was flipping through."

"Right."

Juliet's not stupid, but she has a surprising amount of grace about the whole thing by not pressing it. Or at least, Destiny thinks it's grace. Then:

"Can we get ice cream after we go to McDonald's?"

Despite herself, Destiny smiles. Like mother, like daughter, she doesn't say. "Sure."

They both get a ten-piece nugget meal apiece, and then an ice cream cone apiece, and finally Destiny drops Juliet off. "Are you sure you're gonna be okay?" she says, when Juliet clambers out of the shotgun seat.

"Yeah."

But Destiny doesn't move. 

"I'm not _actually_ traumatized, D. I didn't even think it was real. And I was right." She waves her phone at Destiny. "It was a prop for _West Side Story_, not a real gun."

"Thank goodness."

"You can come in and wait for Mom, if you want, though."

Destiny wonders if Juliet has inherited her mother's ability to read people. It's the tiniest hesitation, but a hesitation she can feel, before she says: "No, I have to pick up Lily and apologize and give her lunch." She pats the McDonald's bag. "I ran out on her parent-teacher conference."

"Lucky."

Destiny thinks about that long after they say their goodbyes. Can't help it. Long after the day is done, when she's finished putting Lily to bed with plenty of extra book-reading by way of apology, she keeps thinking about Juliet. The big hoodie worn like a defense, the studied nonchalance, the hatred of parent-teacher conferences, and most of all, the easy lying. It's a disgustingly tired aphorism to say that girls become like their mothers, but with Juliet, there's just no other word for it. 

How much of that is from Ramona missing from home to go to court? How much of that is from Ramona's backslide into, not poverty exactly, but a drastic downgrade from her former glamorous apartment? Destiny's seen it all on Facebook and Instagram, through Mercedes's phone. Mercedes is the only one who's forgiven her, really. And that's one more person than Destiny ever expected to forgive her, so Destiny shouldn't use her to get at Ramona, but that's what she does, isn't it? She uses people, and takes and takes and takes, and Lily thrives, and Juliet—Destiny isn't sure. She wants to be sure, though. She can admit that now. Everything she did today was on instinct, so she has to admit that she needs Juliet to be okay. There are still days when she forgets what happened (what she did) and she thinks for a split second, while trying a new recipe: _I bet Juliet would like this_. Just like sometimes she sees a good sale at a girl's clothing store or eats a really good taco from a truck or watches a good movie on Netflix and she reaches for her phone to tell Ramona. There are still times when she spots a rich man in a restaurant at a hundred paces, but there's only Lily to tell, and Lily doesn't need to know. Destiny doesn't need to know. The bottle is half empty and Destiny pours herself a little more.

Midnight and finally the right phone goes _ding_. Before she picks it up, she knows she's ready to do something stupid.

_Juliet told me what you did. _The sender of this single text is simply known by one name in Destiny's contacts. _Her_.

Yeah, she's about to do something really stupid. It's not a good life just yet. She begins to type.


End file.
